


i know my love for her goes on

by delinquents



Series: Song Inspired - SKAM Italia [6]
Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Music, Sappy, Skam Italy - Freeform, Song Lyrics, Song: Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, incantava - Freeform, literally is just straight fluff, skam italia - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delinquents/pseuds/delinquents
Summary: Edoardo's totally, inexplicably, stupidly in love with her.fic no.6 of the song series brought to you byEvery Little Thing She Does is Magic by Sleeping at Last
Relationships: Edoardo Incanti/Eleonora Sava
Series: Song Inspired - SKAM Italia [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901491
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	i know my love for her goes on

**Author's Note:**

> someone asked for edo being pathetically in love with ele and i think(???) i did it

Edoardo's totally, inexplicably, stupidly in love with her.

* * *

_ Though, I've tried before to tell her _

_ Of the feelings I have for her in my heart _

"No, seriously," Ele laughs, turning in the circle of his arms to share his pillow and smile oh-so-gently up at him, "I know it wasn't when I called you out, so when did you  _ actually _ start being interested in me?"

The thing is, it's not the first time she's asked this, and because he can never come up with the right words to say it definitely won't be the last, either. 

He knows,  _ of course, he knows _ , but there's no way of telling her that he's  _ still  _ finding new reasons to like her even more without her asking even more questions. Because he knows the moment he realised he wanted more than just one date out of her was when she'd peeked at him from the corner of her eyes before stealing the cookie tin and holding it hostage - he doesn't know  _ why _ , he just knows that it had made him smile, that it felt like they'd crossed some kind of bridge. But it wasn't the  _ only _ moment.

Edoardo always knew she was attractive. There's a brief memory of watching the way her mouth wrapped around her own name at that party, noticing how green her eyes were, counting the freckles across her nose peaking through her makeup before she'd stepped away and Silvia was pushed into the spotlight. There's an even more vivid memory of having to take a deep breath when she stepped in front of him a few days later, trying not to get distracted by the dangerous glint in her eyes and the way her mouth curved into a self-confident grin as she threw sharp words at him; the way her hair moved as she walked away and he'd turned away from his friends to watch her go. 

He'd been interested then, knew that she was going to be tough, that she wouldn't fall at his feet like Silvia did, but it was more the challenge than anything else. He'd wanted to show her that he was all those things she thought he was and for good reason, wanted to remember that moment in the courtyard as something different - and he does, because he'd been interested in her then and he's  _ dating  _ her now, gets to have her in all the ways she gives to him, gets her in the ways she doesn't realise she lets him see too - but there have been so many moments since then, too.

It was the moment where she'd reached between them and stolen the cookie tin, holding it hostage on the dock before he'd been swept away. The moment where Eva had to pull her away when he complimented her, the way her cheeks flushed before her eyes hardened in determination to not let him in. It was the way she'd chased after him in the rain, yelling over the howl of the wind about how he was a liar, a manipulator, why she could  _ never  _ like him, how  _ no, she wasn't done  _ and kissed him. 

It was the moment the raindrops on her fingers froze his cheeks, how she'd held on tightly as he swung her up, wanting to keep her closer as her mouth moved over his. It was the moment they'd sat in his car, still soaking wet, laughing at absolutely nothing, teeth chattering. 

It was the day he had officially met Filo when Ele introduced him as her boyfriend; her knuckles white where she gripped his hand nervously. It was the way she broke down in her room, how she'd tried to pull away from him, heaving against his chest, saying she was dying, just for her to follow him in laying down, evening out her breathing again. It was the way she held herself together until he had walked away both times from her, how relieved she looked when he got out of the car and ran back. 

It was the day she met his Nonna for the first time; how she'd been immediately welcomed into the family, and how they spent hours in the kitchen until Ele had perfected the cookie recipe. It was the day she turned down his offer to drive her to school, only for her to get out of  _ Fede's  _ car at the gates, laughing at one of his best friend’s stupid jokes; the day he couldn't find her at a party only to spot her sitting outside in the cold as she kept Chicco company while he smoked. 

It's the way his Aunt loves her, the way his Uncle and her will talk for hours about Chemistry and History and some documentary on Netflix. It's how his baby cousin is enthralled with her, refusing to let her put him down until he has to go to bed. It's the way she meets his Nonna for lunch every Saturday, the way they don't invite him but ask for a lift to the restaurant anyway. It's the way his friends consider her 'one of the boys', the way they go to her for help with girls, with homework, the way they all ask her to look over their college applications or the resumes. 

It's the way she sinks into his chest after a long day; the way she looks for him in a crowd; the way she kisses him, each and every time. It's the way she takes his clothes off, the way she touches him, the way she cuddles into him, the way she wears his clothes in the morning and how she giggles when he wraps his arms around her. 

It's the way she struggles to say things sometimes, and how she settles with looking at him so softly it tells him everything he needs to know. 

But he can't tell her this because it still doesn't really make sense to him. He's tried, before, to get the words out but they always sound wrong. Sound like excuses. And Edoardo doesn't need excuses to be into Eleonora, because he  _ knows _ he loves her and that's enough, and until he can figure out a way to say all of this and make it sound  _ exactly  _ how he wants to, he just can't say it.

So, instead of finding a way to tell her all of that in a way that makes sense, he just grins lazily at her and kisses her until she stops asking questions.

* * *

_ Do I have to tell the story _

_ Of a thousand rainy days _

He's had a newfound appreciation for the rain ever since she'd kissed him for that first time, but he's pretty sure that it's mainly because Eleonora gets so excited every time she hears it.

It's pounding against the walls, hammering above and around them, and they can't see out of the windows no matter how hard they squint, but Ele doesn't appear to want to move any time soon and so Edoardo tries to ignore the static shooting up and down his right leg where it's supporting her. 

There's a skylight in the corridor leading to Edoardo's room, which Ele hadn't noticed for the first few months until Edo had asked her to make sure he called the cleaning guy. She's been obsessed with it ever since, and the way her eyes had light-up ten minutes ago when they heard the rain kind of makes her dragging him out of bed totally worth it. 

Ele’s between his legs, head rested on his chest, absentmindedly playing with Edo’s fingers and it’s so pathetically domestic that Edoardo kind of wants to ruin it. Wants to sit up, drag her away, do  _ anything  _ to stop himself thinking about how he wants to lay there with her, surrounded by almost all the pillows in his house, everything smelling like him but the scent of Ele’s perfume so overpowering it’s all he can sense. He’s had moments, with other girls, where it had seemed like second nature to cuddle closer before he walked away, where he could kind-of-see himself doing this once or twice more; but he could lay here with Ele for a thousand more days, never once getting up, and he can comfortably say he would never get tired of.

“My dad used to have a skylight in his car,” Ele says now, lips a little cold when she presses them fleetingly to his knuckles before arching up in a stretch - Edo catches her elbow and drags her further up his body, hooking his thigh between both of hers and nestling his chin against her shoulder.

“Mhm,” He hums, dipping to kiss the exposed skin of her collar briefly, and closing his eyes. 

“Yeah, he used to keep the cover closed, though - said it distracted him when he was driving,” Ele continues and Edo feels her fingers sifting through his hair, her nails against his scalp in that way that she  _ knows  _ makes it difficult for him to focus; but she never really talks about her family, other than Filo, and he’s desperate to know anything new about her that she lets him. 

“Filo used to wait until he would leave the car, for gas or snacks or something, and then he would open it all the way and watch the rain through it,” Her back vibrates against his chest as she giggles quietly at the memory, “I remember I used to try and hide under a jacket or something. I thought every time a drop would hit the window that it would just fall right through the glass and hit me square in the face.”

Edo smiles against her skin, trying to picture it.

“My dad had one,” He says, smiling at her as she flips over and smiles at him, “He used to forget when he opened it so it would be open all night, and get annoyed about all the water in the car the next morning. It wasn’t so funny when my GameBoy got water damage, though.”

“But your PacMan score!”

“I know!” He laughs with her, likes the teasing tone she can adopt so quickly even when he knows the memory of her father still stings. 

“You don’t talk about him a lot,” Edo whispers when she’s settled back down, her nose freezing against his collar but her breathing steady, lulling him close to sleep despite still being in the middle of the corridor. “Your dad, I mean.”

“You don’t talk about yours much either,” Ele mumbles, and he thinks she might not have washed her lipstick completely off because he can feel something on his lips since she last kissed him. Her mouth is always a faint shade of whatever lipstick she prefers though, and he’s so used to rubbing his mouth and having the back of his hand come out some shade of faint purple or red it doesn’t even faze him anymore.

“You don’t talk about your mum, either.”

“Right back at you.”

“Ele-”

“ _ Edo _ -”

“You know you can, right?” He presses her backwards in the pillows, hovers over her, knows she’s looking over his shoulder and at the rain pelting the skylight. 

“I just… You pretty much know it all, anyway.” She shrugs, and he remembers seeing her cry for the first time - his car was too warm for the coat he was wearing, and he’d blamed himself for making her cry as soon as she mentioned the hospital. 

“I know the  _ main  _ bits,” He shrugs, cups her cheek and tilts her head to look at him, “Just- sometimes you look like you want to talk about them and then you just bite your cheek and stop. You’re allowed to be upset for not having them around anymore, even if you don’t  _ want  _ them around.”

“You’re allowed to talk about your mum, too,” She whispers, fingers catching the sleeves of his shirt and wrapping the fabric between her middle and index digits, “She’d be proud of you.”

He snorts, can’t really keep it in, “Sure,” He’s teasing, because he knows his mum  _ would  _ be proud of him, but, also, not really, “She’d  _ love  _ what I’ve done. The wall, the fights, Silvia, Andrea-”

Ele swats at him, and he loves the fleeting smile on her face even when she’s trying to be serious, “We’re over that.”

He loves that just a little bit more though. How she’s said it so confidently, how she can walk into his house so freely now and doesn’t need to hold his hand everywhere she goes. He’d loved when she needed him, when she clung to him how she used to, but he’d wanted it to be under different circumstances. Didn’t want his own girlfriend terrified of waking up in his bedroom because of what his brother did to her, and he still can’t get over how he’ll stumble home from a late night at Fede’s just to find Ele curled in his sheets now. 

“I know she’ll be proud of me,” He says instead of everything else swimming in his head, “She’ll be really proud of me for bringing you home.”

* * *

_ And ask her if she'll marry me _

_ In some old unfashioned way _

"We should get married."

He sees her outline, mostly, but everything else is a little foggy and all the colours are blending into one. Her room has a lot of colours, mainly oranges and greens from all of her plants, but her shirt's a deep red today and it only gets clearer as she gets closer. There's a pocket in that shirt, he remembers how she had excitingly texted him about it, and gold buttons down the centre that he could probably count if her hands weren't suddenly tilting his chin up. 

Her eyes are green, he knows because it's his favourite colour right now - not green,  _ her  _ shade of green, specifically - but he can't make out where her pupils are at the moment. 

"Are you proposing to me, Eduardo?"

She's unbuttoning his shirt. She can't unbutton his shirt when he's trying to propose, it's not polite - he can ignore  _ Eduardo _ so long as she pays attention to what he's saying, rather than trying to get into his pants. He says as much and she stops what she's doing just to bury her laugh into his shoulder. 

"Ele," He can't remember how he got up to her flat, just knows that it was either Ele or Fede who'd had to support his weight, "Listen to me. We should get married."

"I heard you the first time," She's teasing him, popping the last button undone and sliding his shirt off his shoulders. Her hands are a little chilly as they sweep against his skin, but her perfume hits his nose at the exact same time and he has to lean closer in an effort to nestle his nose against her collar. It smells like lavender and springtime and something entirely  _ magic _ , and he should really ask what it's called because he's going to buy her fifty bottles of it just so she never runs out. 

"We can't get married," She kisses his forehead gently, pushing him to lay down. He's on the wrong side of the bed, he's pretty sure because he feels like he's on the left side and Ele can't fall asleep if she's on the right. He tries to lift his hands up to make two L's, but he feels dizzy once his head hits the pillow and then he can smell Ele's shampoo, so he closes his eyes and sinks into it. 

Her word's don't really register until she's brought the blankets over him and pressed another kiss to his forehead. He catches her wrist before she can get too far away, and his voice sounds slurred even to his own ears, "Why can't we get married?"

"Because I cannot marry a guy called  _ Eduardo _ ," She teases, again, kissing the corner of his mouth and whispering, "Sleep." 

He does, and by the time he wakes up again the sun's gone done and Ele's in bed with him. She's sat up, facing him, one of her thighs tucked between the both of his as she chews at her bottom lip, typing rapidly at her laptop. The colours that merged together before going back to their rightful places, so he can actually see that she's changed into one of his jumpers and a pair of leggings. She looks tired like she could go for a nap (or to sleep if the darkness outside is anything to go by), but Edoardo has to stop short because she looks  _ stunning _ .

She catches him staring and smiles a little, moving one hand to run her fingers up and down the curve of his knee over the blankets, "Good sleep? How's the head?"

"Alright," He answers to both of them, but his head's pounding and he's not totally sure he can feel his toes, "What time is it?"

"Eleven," She closes her laptop and leans over him to put it down on the floor, but when she straightens back up again she's holding a pack of painkillers and a glass of water. He washes down two tablets and cringes when the water's warm, but Ele's fingers are in his hair and that's more important than whatever the hell she's just given him. 

"What did the doctor say?" He groans, wrestling her down to lay with him, his cheek on her chest, nose in her collar. He can smell where their scents have mixed on the jumper and that's just as intoxicating as her scent alone. 

"Well, the good news is you didn't faint," She prods his shoulder, "But we won't get the results back for another two weeks. They might need more blood, though."

"No," He mutters, "They stole enough. No more needles."

He thinks she cooes at him - something along the lines of 'poor baby', probably making fun of the way the hospital had to put him under a general anaesthetic just for a blood test - but there's something else on his mind, "You won't marry me."

She hums, her chest vibrating with the movement against his cheek, and he lifts himself to an elbow so he can watch the way she smiles softly at him, "You want to marry me?"

"Well... was that not obvious?"

"It's been seven months, Edo," It's not vicious, or even a rejection, just a soft observation as she traces invisible twirling patterns across his shoulders, "I didn't think you were serious."

"I'm not saying we get married  _ now _ ," He clarifies, feeling like he has to, "Just... for later. So we know."

Because he wants to marry her. Or spend the rest of his life with her - whichever means more to her. He wants to stop having to say goodbye, wants to stop having to guess whether or not she's awake so he can call her. He wants to wake her up each day with a good morning, wants to feel her against him when he goes to sleep, wants all the moments in between to fall in love with her all over again. He wants a place where it's just them, and he doesn't care where they work or live or buy their food, just as long as Ele can have a space to have her plants and he can have a place to cook, that's fine with him. 

He doesn't want to meet another Eleonora Sava - because they won't be  _ Eleonora Sava _ , and anyone after her is just going to be a downgrade, in his very professional opinion. He doesn't want other people, or to relearn birthdays and favourite ice cream flavours or shoe sizes. He wants Eleonora and her collection of identical tights, and her habit of chewing on pens and the way her eyelashes flutter when he touches her cheek. He wants to hear the way she whimpers while she's dreaming, wants to feel her huddle closer when it's cold outside. He doesn't want to introduce his friends to another girl, because he knows that  _ they  _ know no one else can match up to the Eleonora Sava he has now. 

"That's how I know I'm interested," He says once he's finished telling her all of that, swiping at the tear falling from her lashes, "Marry me. At some point, or never, that's fine too, just don't leave me. Please."

He's said it before, he loves the way she struggles for words sometimes and how he can see them all in her eyes, but he especially loves the moment where she gives up searching and just surges up to kiss him instead. It's insistent and demanding, and he thinks he might be leaving imprints of his nails against her hips but she's tugging pretty hard at his hair to make up for it. 

"You're  _ so  _ getting called Eduardo every day," She laughs, swallowing his offending groan and falling onto her back, dragging him down with her. 

"Can I get a day off?" He mumbles, finding her pulse point at her neck and nipping at it, "Like once a month, or something?"

"Nope," She shakes her head, green eyes burning when he looks up, "Every day, till death do us part,  _ Eduardo _ ."


End file.
